On March 8, a fashion show lit up the snowy hills of Gulmarg, Jammu and Kashmir. Famous designers put it together to display skiwear against one of India’s most beautiful places. The goal? To show the world how special Jammu and Kashmir can be. But in just a few hours, everything changed. People flooded social media with anger, calling it a “half-naked” insult to Ramzan and Kashmir’s values. Religious leaders and online critics shouted loud, and by March 9, Chief Minister Omar Abdullah ordered an investigation into who allowed this event. What started as a fresh idea turned into a big fight, leaving many to wonder: why all this fuss?
The fashion show happened during Ramzan, a holy month when people focus on prayer and quiet thoughts. Holding it then might not have been the best choice, and that’s worth thinking about. But the event wasn’t in a busy spot like Lal Chowk in Srinagar, where everyone would see it. It was held in a tucked-away part of Gulmarg, a tourist area in J&K, India, where only those who wanted to go showed up. Fashion shows aren’t about covering up—they’re about creativity and new styles. You won’t see burqas on runways in Paris, Milan, or even Mumbai, where Bollywood mixes modern looks with old ways. Gulmarg’s show was no different, but the reaction was huge.
Mirwaiz Umar Farooq, a top religious leader in the Valley, quickly spoke out. He said the show ruined Kashmir’s “holy, gentle culture.” Others online agreed, calling it “Western trash” and a disgrace. But some of these critics don’t match their own words. One religious man from Srinagar who hated the show was seen in Dubai, smiling next to a drink, while his Facebook stays full of holy quotes. Another activist, upset about “half-naked” models, posts Instagram pictures of late-night Srinagar parties with women who aren’t his wife laughing around him. These double standards make you question: are they really protecting values, or just pointing fingers to feel better?
The organizers had a big dream. They wanted Gulmarg—a place with perfect snow and amazing views—to shine worldwide. One person wrote on X, “I was mad at first, but my post got tons of likes and shares.” That shows how far the event reached. This fits with what Chief Minister Omar Abdullah said not long ago. During budget talks in Jammu, he shared plans to bring rich tourists to J&K—people from places like Dubai or Delhi who love fancy, special things. He also talked about bringing back movie projects to show Kashmir’s beauty on big screens. Gulmarg is the star of that plan. A fashion show—stylish and perfect for Instagram—could pull in exactly the crowd he wants. So why order an investigation now? It feels like he’s giving in to loud voices instead of leading.
Here’s a hard fact: no Kashmiri boys or girls walked in the show. Not one. That’s tough to hear. The designers tried to put Gulmarg on the map, but local people didn’t join in. Maybe they were scared of the anger that came anyway. Compare this to Saudi Arabia. Back in 2018, they held a fashion show in Riyadh with bold outfits—way beyond their old robes. Then came movie theaters, and people filled the seats without a big fight. Sheikh Mohammed bin Salman, who’s been in charge for over ten years, pushed these changes. He stood up to strict religious leaders and built a stronger private sector, all while keeping Saudi Arabia’s holy values strong. It didn’t fall apart—it grew. In India, too, people argue about Bollywood’s short skirts or Goa’s beachwear, but the noise dies down, and life goes on.
In Kashmir, though, small things like this fashion show turn into emotional storms. Political leaders, from Delhi to the Valley, often use these moments to stir up feelings. It keeps people focused on anger instead of asking for jobs or better roads. For 30 years, rules here stopped music and closed theaters, pushing the world away. The Gulmarg show was a chance to break free—a shot to join the modern world. The designers didn’t hurt Gulmarg; they gave it a new look. But the critics—Mirwaiz Umar, Omar Abdullah, and their online army—bring only noise, not answers.
Kashmir has two paths now. One leads to a future with fashion, movies, and fancy visitors. The other stays stuck in fear and old fights. The organizers picked the future. The complainers hold the past. Gulmarg deserves to shine, not just for tourists, but for its own people. Will it get that chance, or will the loud voices turn off the light again?
